Father Figure
by The Dark Loremaster
Summary: When McGarrett receives a phone call that a good friend of his was found murdered in his home, he finds himself beginning to unravel the man's secret past and realizes that some people are much better at keeping secrets than he could have ever thought.


**Father Figure  
**By: The Dark Loremaster

**Rating**: T [PG-13]

**Feedback**:  
Reviews are always welcome! Please, no flaming posts, only constructive criticisms.

**Spoilers**:  
This story may contain information from the television series.

**Disclaimer**:  
I do not own any part of the Hawaii Five-0 franchise. I am simply writing a story based on the characters and the settings provided throughout the series itself. Any characters not part of the franchise are of my own creation and are present within the story to continue it along. Some may have bigger roles than others. I do ask that you do not use my original characters or my original storylines without my permission.

**Summary**:  
When McGarrett receives a phone call that a good friend of his was found murdered in his home, he finds himself beginning to unravel the man's secret past and realizes that some people are much better at keeping secrets than he could have ever thought.

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Chapter One-

Ringing.

It was a shrill sound, annoying and deeply mind aching, and it only grew more insistent the longer he chose to ignore it. He had figured that eventually the call would come to end and that he would be able to fall back into a deep sleep, but his gut kept telling him that it was wishful thinking on his part. But then the ringing came to end, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, he was in luck and that he would be able to roll back over and become oblivious to the world around him. At least, that was until the phone began ringing again, the shrillness growing ever louder than before, if that were at all possible. Groaning, he rolled over and grabbed the device, his sleep-blurred eyes struggling to make out the identification of the caller. Furrowing his brow, his lips set into a frown as he swiped a finger across the screen, answering the call as he brought the phone to his ear.

"McGarrett."

The voice on the other end of the line seemed to heave a sigh of relief before starting to explain the reason behind the call. Glancing at the alarm clock, he saw that it was nearly three in the morning, another indication that the call had to be an emergency. Pulling himself up to a sitting position, he pressed the phone closer to his ear as the caller began to talk, quickly explaining the situation. It took a moment for him to process the conversation before he heard the name, his eyes narrowing.

"Wait, hold on, did you say Mike?" Hearing the caller repeat the name, McGarrett felt his heart skip a small beat. Michael Nakamura. He had not heard that name in at least three years, not since the man's wife had passed away. The name reminded him of his early naval days, before he went for SEAL training, when they were in the same unit together while Michael had finished college, working together. Yes, they had their arguments. Yes, they did not always agree with each other or see eye to eye, but ultimately they managed to put aside their squabbles for the betterment of the unit as a whole. That was what it was about, after all. But now a lump developed in his throat as he stared straight ahead of him and into the darkness of the room. Even Catherine shifting beside him could not detract him from his thoughts as he spoke into the phone again. "What happened to him? Is he okay? What about his daughter?"

He could tell that the caller was trying to remain calm. It was then that he recognized the voice speaking on the other end of the line, and he felt the sinking feeling enter the pit of his stomach. It was like a punch in the gut, an unceremonious pain that seemed to strike hard as Duke spoke the next few words carefully, explaining that it would be best to head over to Nakamura's home. He barely heard the rest as his mind focused on the first set of words, each word memorized down to the syllable.

Michael Nakamura was dead.

"Steve?" Catherine was awake now and moved to sit up beside him. But he did not fully hear her calling out his name. He closed his eyes, taking the phone away from his ear as the call ended. It took him another moment before he made sure that he hung up the call before he felt her hand rest on his forearm. "Steve, what's going on? Is everything okay?"

Her words were spoken softly, were filled with concern, but he found himself unable to answer her as he set the phone down on the bedside table. He flicked on the lamp, watching as his side of the room was illuminated in bright light before he ran his fingers through his hair, carefully turning to her. What was he to tell her? Michael Nakamura was someone he had known for years. He had been there when the man found out he was going to be a father; in his mind, his college career was all but finished the day Lily made the announcement. He had been present when the man found out the baby was a girl, had been the first person he had called when Lily had given birth to the baby. He had even been there when Michael and Lily had gotten married right out of high school, had even been the best man. There was so much history there, so many memories, but it seemed so sudden. He had not spoken to the man in over three years, and he felt a strong pang of regret grasp his heart as he took a breath, finally realizing that he had been holding it in.

"There's been a murder." He was already sliding out of the bed, turning away from Catherine's worried look as he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. The quicker he go across town, the sooner he would be able to find out what exactly had happened. "Can you give Danny a call? We need to leave now."

Catherine only nodded her head as he turned to face her again, his blue eyes briefly locking with her brown. He could see the unspoken questions reflected in her eyes, and he knew that he owed her some sort of explanation. But what was he to say? The death of a friend was pulling him out of bed at an ungodly hour in the morning, and he found himself very concerned with the man's teenage daughter? Is that what he should tell her? Heaving a sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed as he moved to put his shoes on.

"Steve, what's going on?" Catherine never was one to just give up and do as asked. He should have known better. Glancing toward her, he took a deep breath.

"An old friend of mine was found dead this morning. Duke has asked me to come over and investigate." She gave him a nod as she slid out of the bed herself. He knew that she would get dressed just as quickly as he had so that they could leave. Feeling her hand rest on his shoulder, she gave him a sympathetic look before she grabbed her own phone to call Danny.

"I'm so sorry, Steve." She whispered before dialing the number and pressing the phone to her ear.

* * *

"Steve!"

He felt the arms that wrapped around his torso before he heard his name. Glancing down, he saw Samantha Nakamura, Michael's only child. The girl was petite for her age, with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. She looked like Lily, her mother, a woman Steve had known since high school. Dressed in pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and a black tank top, she looked even younger than her sixteen years, and he felt his heart go out to her as he carefully returned the embrace. He could not remember the last time he had seen her, the last time he had heard her call his name. Lily's death and the expanse of time had kept him out of the loop, so to speak, and deep down he was beginning to regret what the passage of time had done to the friendship he had once had.

"Steve, I'm sorry to have pulled you out of bed at this hour." Duke was already stepping toward him, his face illuminated by the red and blue lights of the police squad cars. It made the scene all the more real as he swallowed the second lump that had developed in his throat.

"What happened here?"

"Single gunshot victim, the girl's father. The FBI believes he was gunned down by the Yakuza. They have called the one in charge, and she is due to arrive later on this morning, perhaps this afternoon." Steve only nodded before he glanced down at the teenager. She was looking up at him, her eyes large and moist.

"Sammy, why don't you go see Catherine?" The girl was reluctant to step away, but a gentle nudge sent her on her way toward where Catherine stood waiting by his truck. He did not speak again until the girl was out of earshot, and his line of vision to Duke was no longer obscured by the swirling lights. "Who called this in?"

"The girl. She hasn't spoken much about what had happened. All she did was ask for you. That was why I called you." Duke motioned for him to follow as he led the way toward the house. They did not make it far when he heard a car door shut, and he turned to see Danny walking toward them. The blond looked like he had just gotten out of bed, and McGarrett was reminded once more at how early it was.

"What's going on here?" Danny was pointing to the teenage girl. "Is she okay?"

"No."

McGarrett said nothing more as he started for the entrance, no longer waiting for the others to catch up to him. Easing the door open, he carefully stepped inside, his blue eyes moving across the space of the living room. Michael's body still lay on the floor, what looked like debris from a broken coffee table sprawled out underneath him. A stain of red decorated his chest, causing the fabric of his shirt to stick to his skin. Other pieces of furniture had been overturned, the signs of a struggle obvious. He could only imagine how Samantha had taken this, how she had handled what could have appeared as a break in. At least, he was beginning to question if it had been a break in. How she had managed to survive was beyond him, but he was thankful that the carnage had escaped her.

Taking a small breath, his eyes glanced toward the bookshelves that lined the walls. Photographs of the family, of Michael and Lily's wedding, of Samantha as she grew up filled the shelves, making it clear that the family, while slightly unconventional, had been close and loving. His focus strayed from the family pictures to the wedding photograph that stood in the middle. Lily was smiling as brightly as ever while Michael's eyes shined with happiness. In the middle was their flower girl, a five-year-old Samantha. He felt moisture sting his eyes as he turned away from the pictures, his thoughts briefly going back to that day, a day in which the couple had renewed their vows to show that being married at such a young age had not impacted there love for each other. That was a day he would always remember because the family had been so happy together; time could not rid him of that wonderful memory.

"Where's the mother?" Danny was looking at a photograph of the family, one that had been taken shortly before Lily had died. McGarrett closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his jaw as the realization that this teenager was now alone in the world, without any other family. It pained him to know that she had lost what was so dear to her, especially since he knew the pain of losing one's loved ones. Still, he knew that Danny deserved an answer, and he stepped away from the wall toward where Michael's body still lay on the floor.

"She passed away three years ago."

"Oh." The unrefined remark spoke volumes to him, and he knew that Danny would express a saddened but understanding look. This case was not going to be an easy one, especially with how personal it was already becoming. But neither of them said another word as footsteps and the gentle closing of the door indicated that another presence had entered the room, McGarrett briefly facing Max Bergman as the man went straight for the cooling body. For a moment, he could only stand there, watching as the medical examiner got to work, his jaw clenched tight.

"The bullet made a clean path through the body."

Max's words struck McGarrett hard as he continued to eye the other's work. Mike had been a good friend of his, a friend that he now knew he should have had a better relationship with over the last few years. Lily's death had nearly ended their friendship, and differing occupations had kept them on opposite sides of the city. Every now and again, McGarrett would run into him, exchange a friendly greeting, but that was it. There were no more late night poker games, dirty jokes, and recollections of the "good old days" when they were both sailors. Now, it seemed almost like a forgotten memory, one that he had barely held on to, but he knew, deep in his heart, that he would likely remember everything that had happened between them as the time wore on. Right now, he wanted answers, wanted to know who had done this, and the only witness was standing outside, likely shaken to her very core by what had transpired. And with the FBI presence that was guaranteed to be there, he was almost dreading the next cycle of events.

"I would say that he died a quick death. The bullet pierced his heart. At least, based on what I am looking at, that would be my best estimation. Once I get him back to the office, I will be able to tell you more concretely what had happened."

Max was speaking again, his words concise and to the point, and McGarrett almost missed the information that he was telling him. Looking down at the body for truly the first time since he had arrived, he found himself actually examining Mike's features. Dark eyes were closed, his body stiff as rigor slowly began to set in. He was dressed down, likely getting ready for bed when he had answered the door. The lack of forced entry had told him that Mike had known his killer, and that worried him even more. The hint of bruising on the man's face and arms indicated that the struggle that had been apparent in the overturned furniture had transplanted into a physical altercation. And all of this happened while his only child was at home, upstairs and able to hear everything. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Max." Was all he could offer as he stepped back to the door, suddenly in need of air. His eyes immediately went to his truck, to where Catherine was talking to the sixteen-year-old girl who had just lost everything. His jaw tightened again as he took another breath before heading toward Duke.

He was going to find out who had done this, even if he had to reach the edges of hell to do it.

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Author's Note: A few minors changes have been made to make sure that the story flows correctly and holds appropriate information. Thank you to those who have reviewed already! I appreciate the feedback.


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